Freckles, Fireworks, and Funny Things Muggles Say
by jennyfiveshoes
Summary: Post-DH, pre-Epilogue. R/H one-shot. Ron and Hermione have a much-needed talk following the trio's visit to the Headmaster's office. Revised as of July 6, 2014.


"Ron?" Hermione whispered. "Ron, wake up."

I opened my eyes groggily. It was a dream. It had to be a dream. I wasn't at Hogwarts, and Hermione didn't have her wet hair down as if she had showered, as if we had somewhere to shower. I stared up at her. Since it was a dream, I could stare at her all I wanted, right? Right.

She looked back at me curiously. "Ron, I don't . . . I don't think I can spend tonight alone."

I stared at her harder. Yeah, it had to be a dream.

She seemed suddenly very interested in the floor. "If . . . If it's alright, you know, with you, maybe we could go to the common room or something? Because of everything that's going on?"

Everything that's going on? If I were at Hogwarts, nothing would be going on.

"Ron," she said, looking worried. "Say something."

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice cracking from lack of use.

Hermione sat tentatively on the edge of my bed (towards the end). "Ron, don't you remember?"

It took a second before the memories started flooding back—Fred. You-kn—I mean, Voldemort. Tonks. Lupin. Bellatrix. All dead. Everything we'd worked for achieved. Loved ones lost. But love had been gained—or realized, rather—too.

I looked away from Hermione, knowing my ears were becoming increasingly red. "Er—yeah. I think so." I grinned despite myself, despite of Fred. I knew I had been angry and bitter before, but I think the bit of sleep helped. I sort of missed him, but I hadn't really registered it. I knew I would later, but Fred had been smiling all of his life. Surely he wouldn't be too upset if he knew (wherever he was) that I was smiling. It was Hermione, after all. Grief could wait. Maybe not long, but it could wait.

"So, the common room?" she asked nervously.

"Sure," I rolled out of bed tiredly. I was thoroughly relieved that I had fallen asleep fully clothed.

I sat down on the couch across from the fire in the surprisingly empty common room. She followed suit, sitting as far away from me as a stranger would. I groaned internally. Would things always be this awkward?

She nervously twisted her hands in her lap. "Ron, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, giving her a small smile.

"I'm here. You know that, don't you?"

Unable to put up with the distance between us any longer, I moved near to her, wrapping her in my arms and kissing her forehead. "I do now."

"Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?"

"Coming back."

Wanting to get rid of the distance the memory of my leaving had put between us, I pulled her into my lap. I rested my forehead against hers. "I wanted to come back the moment I left," I said apologetically. "I didn't mean . . . I'll never . . . I won't leave you again. I promise."

"I know," she replied, smiling tentatively. Her eyes flittered from mine to my mouth, and she leaned in slowly. I leaned in too, ever wanting to be rid of this distance between us, and she captured my lips with hers. I had more to say, but what I hadn't said was painful, and what I had said seemed to satisfy Hermione for the present.

She broke the kiss off first and took a shuddery deep breath. She let her head fall into my chest and exhaled happily (from what I could tell). I tightened my arms around her, drawing her even closer. "Hermione," I whispered.

"Mm hmm?"

Why was it so hard to say it even now, even as she was leaning into me like she never wanted to leave, like she would be content if we stayed like this forever? Maybe it was because I had waited so long; I don't know.

"Well, I—I should have told you sooner." I managed to get out before turning red. At least she couldn't see.

She looked up at me curiously. "Told me what?" I swore internally. Now she could see.

I ignored her question, not knowing how to answer it quite yet. "I've wanted to tell you so badly for so long. . . ." Hermione looked at me with what I now made out to be affection. Love, maybe. Merlin, I hoped she loved me, too.

"Even in second year, when Malfoy insulted you, or when you got petrified . . . I was so scared that you'd never wake up, that I'd never be able to tell you. And then afterwards, Harry was always there, or I was too scared to admit it to you anyway. Most of the time, I wouldn't even admit it to myself. It'd be bloody awful if I liked you."

A hurt look crossed Hermione's face.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come off it, Hermione. Obviously, you were too good for me, too smart, too pretty." Her bottom lip dropped a fraction of an inch before she bit it to keep herself from commenting. I loved it when she bit her lip. "I was lucky enough to have you as a friend, and most of the time it seemed Harry was the thread that was holding us together, especially in third year. I'm sorry I got so worked up about Crookshanks and everything. I should have known you were right about him not eating Scabbers." I took a deep breath. "You're always right."

At this last statement, she smiled smugly. I laughed. She hugged me around the middle, still smiling. "Go on," she urged.

"And in fourth year . . . Let's just say I'll never forgive myself for fourth year. I'm sorry I asked you as a last resort. You were never my last resort. You were always at the top of my list, and the list ended there."

Hermione interrupted me and pulled away from me so that she could see all of my face, looking confused: "But what about Lavender and Fleur?"

I winced. "Fleur was—still is—gorgeous. But honestly, she's a bit much. I think you're much prettier. Plus, I can always understand what you're saying." Hermione raised one eyebrow, slightly amused. I scowled. "Like you don't know what I mean . . . She's got that annoying little accent. You only ever use big words. And most of the time you define them."

Her smile faded as she whispered, "And Lavender?"

"Hold it. We're still on Krum."

She sighed. "All right."

"Anyway, the only reason I went so far with the Fleur thing is 'cause you turned me down for Vicky."

"Ron—" Hermione protested.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, Viktor. You turned me down for Viktor."

Her eyes were sad. "I didn't turn you down for Viktor."

I looked at her confusedly. "Yeah, you did. I asked you—well, okay, I kind of asked you—and you said no, that you were going with Krum. And you did."

She groaned. "I wasn't mad at you, Ron. Well, I mean, I blamed it on you, but I was really mad at myself for saying yes to Viktor in the first place."

I stared at her. "What?"

She looked down and bit her lip. "I was only mad that I could have had you and didn't. I wish I had never agreed to go with him. I just thought that you would never ask me, so I tried to make you jealous." She looked up at me, her brown eyes searching mine.

Jealous. Hermione Jean Granger, the most brilliant person I had ever known, tried to make me, Ronald Bilius Weasley, a stupid, freckled, ginger-haired, poor, pathetic boy—me—jealous.

So I did what came most naturally: saying something stupid. "I—but you—I have freckles," I sputtered lamely.

She smiled. "I like your freckles," and she cupped her hand around my neck and brought my head down to kiss my freckled nose.

I grinned, feeling my ears go red. _Hermione likes my freckles._

Our foreheads were still pressed together lightly. I could feel her warm breath on my face. Just sitting there like that with Hermione was a thousand times better than snogging Lavender. Those were small sparks that had quickly died. Just her forehead resting against mine felt bigger and better than fireworks.

I tilted my head and leaned in for a kiss. My eyes shut. Our lips met sooner than I expected; I think she was a bit eager for a bit of snogging herself. Her other hand found my hair; my hands worked themselves around her back, pressing her even closer. She was my whole world at that moment, my entire world.

I pulled away, drinking her in. She was smiling. She looked happier than she had since . . . since she danced with me at the wedding, I think. How could I have not realized it then? But love is blind, as the muggles say. Muggles say funny things.

"As you were saying?" Hermione asked breathily before drawing me into another rather lengthy kiss.

"Blimey, Hermione, how am I supposed to think or form intelligent speech after you kiss me like that?"

She flushed pink. "You were talking about Viktor."

"No, I'm done talking about Viktor. Well, you didn't snog him, did you?" I looked imploringly into the pools of chocolate that were her eyes.

She looked sick. "Well, maybe a little bit."

I swore. "Bloody hell, Hermione." I hated him now more than ever. I'd been hoping since sixth year that maybe Ginny had just trying to make me mad, but now I knew. Merlin, I hated him.

"It was only a quick kiss after the Yule Ball, a peck in the library here and there, but I never initiated it! I only let him because I didn't know what else to do! I liked Viktor; he was my friend, Ron, but he wasn't you, and I knew he never would be! You think I wanted—you think I didn't wish every moment—it was always you, Ron, only you!"

She was crying now. I hated when she cried. I hated it more than Viktor Krum. And come to think of it, he was the one who should have been hating me. I was the one holding Hermione now, and I hoped I always would be. HA, Krum. HA!

She gazed into my eyes, tears running down her face. "Hermione, please don't cry," I pleaded. I pressed my lips to her face, wiping a few of her tears away, but they kept coming.

"Hermione, I'm sorry I'm such a git. We weren't together, thanks to me, and you had every right—" I hated how the words sounded coming from my mouth. I knew they were right, but I didn't want them to be. "—every right to kiss him. It's not like . . . " I didn't know where I was going with this anymore. I just knew I shouldn't have gotten mad at her. At least I'd never had to see it. I mean, I had shoved Lavender and me into Hermione's face (not literally, of course). There'd been little to no escape for her.

"Ron, why did you go out with Lavender?" She had stopped crying, but her eyes were still and wet, her voice was a chocked whisper, and I could see the tear tracks etched on her face.

"I was jealous."

"Why, Ron? I asked you to Slughorn's Christmas party, and we hadn't fought since. . . . You had no reason to be jealous! I thought I had made it very clear that I wanted to be with you. I thought that you might have felt the same way, and then you go snog your heart out with Lavender Brown, my roommate? That was hell, Ronald Weasley, coming into the dorms and wanting to cry my heart out, because you were with her! And I couldn't even do that in peace, because there was something or someone reminding me of you everywhere I went! It was absolute hell!" She burst into tears again. Taken completely aback that Hermione Jean Granger had sworn twice because of me, I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her tightly so that she couldn't go anywhere.

"It was hell for me, too, Hermione. A slightly different hell, but a hell all the same."

She twisted to face me, seeming more angry than sad now. "Then why did you do it?"

"Because Ginny told me you kissed Krum!"

"So? That was _two years_ prior to you and Lavender! You're telling me that you created an entire relationship based on your sister's reports of my snogging another bloke two years before?"

I looked away sheepishly. "Uh—yes."

She glared at me.

"It seemed reasonable at the time!" I protested.

"Yeah, well so did going to Slughorn's Christmas party with McLaggen!"

"You didn't kiss him, did you?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes," she moaned, her head in her hands. "It was horrendous. Completely vile. Worst night of my life."

I didn't know whether to punch something or laugh. At least she hated the bloke as much as I did.

"I love you, Hermione, you know that?" I said, surprising myself as I pulled her still closer.

She lifted her face from her hands and smiled. "And I love you," she whispered as she flung her arms around my neck. "I think I have since you saved me from the troll in first year."

I blushed, "Well, that was mostly Harry. . . ." A thought crossed my mind. "Hey, you never liked Harry, did you?"

She looked at me and laughed. "Harry Potter? Me? Like Harry Potter . . . Never, Ron. Always you. Always will be." She gently pressed her mouth to mine.

I pulled away, confused. Hermione looked slightly disappointed. "But Harry . . . How did you ever like me when Harry was always there?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I thought you were cute."

"I had dirt on my nose."

She laughed lightly—the closest thing I'd ever heard to a giggle from Hermione's mouth. "You looked cute with dirt on your nose."

I was still struggling to understand. "But Harry was—is—handsome, famous, selfless, brave, smart—"

Hermione cut me off with another kiss. "But you're loyal, handsome, brave, selfless, hilarious, and absolutely brilliant. You can be really smart when you want to be, Ronald. Plus, I saw you first."

I looked at her, confused. "You met me when you met Harry!"

She turned pink. "No, I saw you out the window before the train even left the station. I like red hair."

I felt my face breaking into a grin. "Bloody hell, Hermione."

She kissed me and grinned, "Don't swear, Ronald."

"You know, I wanted to tell you sooner," I said.

"Tell me what?" She lightly ran her fingers through my hair.

"That I love you." I smiled. I loved saying that. It felt so good to admit it to her after so long. Merlin, it felt good to admit it to myself.

"Me, too," she smiled back.

"I wanted to wait 'til the war was over. I didn't want to risk our friendship being torn apart when we needed it most. But then after Malfoy Manor—" I felt her shudder, and I sequeezed her tighter, "—I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to let you know so badly. That's when I really knew I loved you. I was so afraid I was going to lose you, 'Mione. I dunno what I would've done if I had. Just hearing your screams hurt. There was nothing I wanted to do more than take you away someplace where we could live together for the rest of our lives, someplace you'd be safe. But I couldn't. And then afterward, when we got to Shell Cottage, Harry was always there, or it was too sad, but mostly I was too scared. I never would've forgiven myself for waiting if you had. . . ." I couldn't finish. It was too much to think about it, let alone say. I shook my head. "I'm such a coward, Hermione. It's a good thing you kissed me first, or else I'm not sure it would have ever happened." I averted her eyes, afraid of what I might find there.

"Ronald Weasley," she cupped my face in her hand and turned it to face her. "Don't you ever say that you're a coward again. It's ridiculous, positively ridiculous. You're a Gryffindor! Not to mention you've spent the last seven years putting your life in danger for the sake of the people you love.

"And you think I wasn't afraid to kiss you? I was terrified! And I didn't fully realize what I was doing until you were already lifting my feet off the ground, and I wasn't exactly going to turn back then, was I? I didn't mean to kiss you. I _was_ going to wait and see if you ever did anything. It just—happened. I can't tell you what I was thinking when I flung myself at you, because I wasn't. I did it before I knew I was doing it, you know? I don't know how else to explain. . . . I reckon you would have done the same thing eventually, since you feel the same way I do." She lowered her eyes from mine at the last bit, gazing into nothing, gazing at my mouth. "You know, lost yourself in the moment before realizing what's going on . . ."

She looked flustered, worried about not being able to communicate well. She was cute when she was worried. She would bite her lip, and she'd get all jittery.

"You're right," I told her for the second time that night. I touched my hand to her face, running my thumb over her bottom lip before stealing another kiss, slow and soft and gentle this time. Hermione—my Hermione, strong and beautiful and brave and in one piece—finally broke away, smiling, and leaned into my chest.

"Ron?"

"Mm?" I drew circles on her back, burying my face in her hair.

"'M tired."

I tangled one of my hands in her curls and used the other one to bring her head to mine, "Me, too." I bent down and touched my lips to hers softly. "Love you." I mumbled into her hair.

She brushed the edge of my jaw with her thumb, which I think was shaking a bit. "I love you, Ron Weasley." She kissed me again, her lips lingering on mine, and readjusted so that she was leaning back into me, the back of her head resting on my chest. I moved my arms around her. "'Night."

"'Night, love." I breathed. It was the first time we'd fallen asleep together that I didn't have to worry about the danger that would be present when we woke up. For the first time, it was just me and her, falling asleep to the sound of each other's breathing, knowing we were safe, knowing we'd have a future waiting for us in the morning.

**Chapter End Notes:**

A/N: Thanking you muchly for reading; I do hope you enjoyed it. Any suggestions on how to improve this (or ideas for other fics)? Dying to tell me how horrible (or wonderful, if you wish) this was? Then go press that little review button right there! It's just asking to be pressed! See?

"Press me! Press me! Eat more bacon! Press me!"

The Lord bless and keep you; may His face shine upon you and be gracious and give you peace.

A/N 2: Revised and updated as of July 6, 2014.


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